


The Sounds Of Love

by Sherlycakes



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Baby Rosie, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Parentlock, Post-Season 4, one teeny tiny bit of angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-29
Updated: 2017-01-29
Packaged: 2018-09-20 18:28:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9505388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherlycakes/pseuds/Sherlycakes
Summary: John is a sneak. He's been listening in on Sherlock and Rosie together in the nursery. And he loves what he hears.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by [my own headcanon post](https://bakingsherlycakes.tumblr.com/post/156384595340/parentlock-headcanon) on Tumblr. I just had to make it into a fic. It wouldn't leave my head!  
> Not Brit-picked. Not Beta'd. All mistakes are my own.  
> I, of course, don't own Sherlock and John. But I do love them madly and think they'll be great parents.  
> Find me on [Tumblr!](https://bakingsherlycakes.tumblr.com/)

It started by accident.

John was usually quick to rise when Rosie made her presence known each morning. Whether she was babbling or wailing, he’d slip out of bed trying his best not to wake Sherlock and head upstairs to fetch his baby girl. He’d gather her up, get her dressed for the day, and head downstairs to make tea and toast for his two favorite people (one of whom would usually be shuffling into the kitchen by this time, dark curls disheveled, yawning widely, wrapped in his favorite sheet).

But this particular morning, John was coming off a double shift at the clinic right on the heels of a multi-day case involving one midnight chase through Regents Park, three cups of Pret tea that went cold, and a team of thieving bankers who didn’t know when to admit defeat.  In short, John Watson was exhausted.

Sherlock Holmes knew this, of course. He’d seen his weary doctor fall into bed when they’d finally returned home to Baker Street in the wee hours of the morning. And even though _he_ was feeling quite fine after 3.8 hours of sleep (obviously), Sherlock wanted John to have plenty of time to recover. So at half seven when Rosie began to whimper in her crib Sherlock left his warm, cozy, John-bed to attend to her.

He crept upstairs skipping the spots that might creak under his progress and opened the bedroom door. Rosie was holding onto the rail of her cot and bouncing up and down, impatient for someone to arrive.  When she saw Sherlock, she gave him a wide, baby-toothed grin and jabbered, “Sh! Sh, sh, sh!”

Theses sounds over the baby monitor finally caused John to crack open a sleepy eye and peer at the alarm clock. He stretched his arms above his head and rolled over to the still warm spot where Sherlock had been.  He assumed Sherlock was already engrossed in a new experiment, apparently having reached whatever random number of hours of sleep was required for a consulting detective to function properly.

John sighed slightly, wishing he might have had just one more hour in bed this morning yet knowing it was unlikely.  Rosie would soon begin crying in earnest if no one came to get her, so he began to swing his legs over the side of the bed to head up to the nursery. Suddenly, the monitor crackled to life and John was surprised to hear the sleep-roughened voice of his beloved come through the speaker.

“That’s right, my little Watson,” Sherlock whispered as he drew close to her cot. “We need to be quiet so we don’t wake your tired Daddy.”  

Rosie answered knowingly, “Da! Da! Da!”

Sherlock bent down, lifted Rosie out of the crib, and placed her securely on his left hip. “Now, let’s get you changed and dressed for the day. Then we’ll head downstairs and see if we can make toast with jam on our own.  Your Daddy always takes such good care of us but it’s our turn to treat him today isn’t it, sweet girl?”

John felt a swelling in his chest as the sounds of them picking out clothes for the day-

“Oh yes, I believe this striped jumper will be just fine, don’t you Rosie? You’ll look just like a little honey bee.”

“Bee, bee! Sh!”

-filtered through the monitor on his bedside table.  He heard Sherlock humming _Round and Round the Garden_ as he changed her nappy and got her dressed. Rosie continued to babble away in delight as he worked. The melody faded as Sherlock finished and was then replaced by the noise of footsteps coming down the stairs.

John reached over and switched off the monitor. For the two months he’d been back at 221B, he had always been the one to get Rosie up each morning. John knew Sherlock cared for Rosie but he didn’t want to trouble him with too much of her day-to-day care. They were in love and finally together in every sense of the word after much, much too long. John didn’t want anything to jeopardize that, including asking Sherlock to care for a daughter he hadn’t planned for, one that wasn’t part of his DNA.

Yet John secretly thrilled at hearing the evidence of Sherlock’s love for Rosie clearly through the baby monitor. The detective doted on Baby Watson daily but wasn’t often alone with her as he was now, where he could speak freely. John could tell Rosie was also pleased by this new morning routine. She seemed to adore Sherlock and wasn’t at all miffed her Daddy hadn’t come for her that morning.  And Sherlock? He seemed to want to be with her just as much.

But was this a one-time occurrence? John decided he wanted to hear just a bit more to prove it to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next two weeks, John feigned sleep a total of seven times. He knew he couldn’t do it every day or Sherlock might catch on too quickly. Each time, he didn’t move a muscle when Rosie awoke. Each time, Sherlock would silently roll out of bed and travel upstairs to take care of her.  Each time, John waited until his lover left their bedroom before turning expectantly toward the baby monitor. And each time, he would turn up the volume and listen to their daybreak discussions.

 

_Observation 2_

“Well, Rosie.  I can see your fine motor strength and coordination are improving. Last week it took you four minutes and twelve seconds longer to strip off your left sock and shoe while we dressed. Why _is_ it always the left one, by the way?”

“Sh! Sh! Baaaaaaah. Bah!”

“Yes, lovie. We will make a bottle as soon as I return the aforementioned shoe and sock to their proper location. I can see we’ll need to work on the principle of causation over breakfast.”

 

_Observation 3_

“Lah! Lah!”

“Listen carefully, little bee. Shhhhh- errrrr- lllll- oooooock. Sherlock.”

“Laaaaahhhhh. Lah. Sh!

“Regrettably, I am now seeing the wisdom in bestowing upon children mundane monikers such as John rather than fanciful ones like mine.”

“Sh! Lah! Lahlah! Lahlah!

“Ah! So that’s me then, I presume? Well done, my dear! Well done. Let’s practice _microscope_ next.”

 

_Observation 5_

“So you see Watson, it was clearly the half-brother who robbed his own father’s safety deposit box. He was trying to claim an inheritance that was never his birthright. One only had to look at the scuffs along the baseboards in the family library to clearly see what had happened.”

“No! No-no! No!”

“What’s that, clever girl?”

“No. Wawa. Wawa no!”

“Wawa? Hmmmmmmm…OH! The stepsister! The water spots on the desk. The stains on the rug. I see it now! He was _framed_. You are as incandescent as your father, Rosie! Unfortunately, I’ll have to wake him earlier than expected but I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Dada?”

“Yes, let’s go get him, you brilliant thing.”

 

_Observation 7_

“Frère Rosie, frère Rosie, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous? So are you awake then, mon bijou? I thought I heard you stirring up here.”

“Lahlah!”

“Oui, mon amour. I’m here. What shall we do today until mon petit loup wakes up, hmm? How about we read a bit more Mother Goose this morning? I’ve become rather fond of London Bridge myself.”

“Oui! Goo!”

“Alright then, we’ll take it downstairs and read while we eat.”

 

John was captivated.  He couldn’t get enough of listening to the two of them together.  Of course, a part of him felt a touch guilty for essentially eavesdropping on Sherlock and Rosie those mornings but not enough for him to stop his charade. Truth be told, each time John heard his detective treat Rosie as if she were his own daughter made him fall in love with Sherlock just that much more (which was already quite a lot). Madly, unequivocally, head over heels in love.  

These observations proved to John once and for all that Sherlock wanted the three of them to be a family. Hell, they already were a family. It had snuck up on them without conscious action on their part. It had become understood. John had seen but not observed.

Damn. Sherlock would never let him live this down.

Well, whatever the cost, now he had heard with his own ears how much Sherlock treasured Rosie and how he went out of his way to make sure she was happy.  It hadn’t taken the world’s only consulting detective to see it; just a besotted army doctor with a penchant for danger and a soft spot for finishing his own love story with a happy ending.

With this knowledge in mind, John decided he would come clean to Sherlock about what he’d been doing.  It was time.


	3. Chapter 3

As the soft dappled light of dawn leaked in through the curtains of their bedroom the next morning, both John and Sherlock heard Rosie gabbling quietly in her cot. She was most likely talking to her favorite plush skeleton- the one she’d gotten from Mrs. Hudson as a welcome home gift the day she and her Daddy returned to 221B for good.

Two men were awake that morning. Two men were waiting to see what the other would do. Both of these men knew she’d start crying in less than five minutes if no one came to see her.

One of them (the one who wanted his handsome doctor to get in a few more winks) pushed himself out of bed and escaped to the nursery where the little girl he was quite smitten with was waiting.  The other man waited patiently with the monitor held close to his ear for his favorite sounds to begin.

“Hello, sweet one. What are you and Bones debating so fervently this morning? Perhaps whether or not we should try walking unassisted again today?”

“Lahlah! Hi!”

“Hi? Oh, you are a smart baby! That’s the third new word you’ve picked up this week. Your Daddy will be so proud of you! He’s already given you the best genes I’ve ever run a DNA analysis of so it’s not surprising to me in the least you’re at the top of the speech development curve. Good work, Watson!”

“Hi, hi, hi, hi! Lahlah!”

“Yes, yes. Hi to you, too! Let’s get you dressed. Do you fancy wearing a dress today? I think you’ll have more freedom of movement for your continued trials on learning to walk today if you do.”

John had heard enough. His heart was going to burst if he didn’t tell Sherlock right now how much he loved him. How much he wanted him to stop hiding the great father he was with Rosie. How he hoped it would be okay if they stayed at 221B forever because there was no way in hell Doctor John Hamish Watson was ever leaving this man, this family, this life they've built together. He jumped out of bed and hustled up the steps two at a time until he reached the doorway of the nursery.

Sherlock had Rosie on the changing table, finishing up pulling a ruffled navy blue dress down over her head and beginning to help her arms through the sleeves. She was chattering at him cheerfully as he worked. He tilted his head toward John but kept his eyes on his charge as she squirmed on the table trying to reach her skeleton buddy.

“Are you alright? I…I thought you were still asleep. Did you have a nightmare?” he said cautiously.

“No! Nothing like that, hon. No worries. I just heard you two having such a splendid time together up here I had to come see it for myself.”

John left the doorway and moved into the nursery to stand beside Sherlock. He took a deep breath.  “I um, well...I have a sort of confession to a make.”

Sherlock’s face looked confused as he wrestled tiny yellow socks onto Rosie’s wiggly baby feet. “I don’t understand, John. What could you possibly have to confess to me? I know I would have deduced it if something was wrong.”

He picked Rosie up and held her out to John who took her instantly and hugged her close. “Good morning, doll! How’s Daddy’s girl this morning? I hear you and Lahlah are planning on practicing walking again today, huh?”  

Rosie fisted her hands into John’s t-shirt and said, “Dada! Hi! Sh, sh! Lahlah!”

John pressed a kiss into her ringlets, smelling baby powder and lavender. He looked warmly over the top of her head at the only man for whom he’d willingly give up his life.

Sherlock was looking back at John with narrowed eyes. “You’ve been listening in, haven’t you? That’s your confession! But how?”

He began pacing excitedly across the nursery. “I would have heard you if you’d been sneaking up the stairs to spy on us. Granted, I am a bit distracted while I’m trying to get Rosie ready.  She can move quite quickly if she tries, just like her Daddy. Still, you’d never have made it back down the steps and into our bedroom without us seeing you on our way down for breakfast.”

John looked down at the floor and smiled sheepishly. “Well, apparently you’ve forgotten that Mycroft isn’t the only one with bugs in the flat.”

He pulled the baby monitor from the back pocket of his pajama pants and waggled it slowly in front of Sherlock. “I didn’t mean to listen that first time. I really didn’t. But you were so good with Rosie. So loving. So funny. So…well, so  _you_. After that I was hooked. I wanted to hear you two together again and again. I’ve occasionally been, um, pretending to be asleep when I was actually awake just so I could.”

Sherlock came close, took the baby monitor from John, and set it down on the changing table. “Soooooo, you were in fact, spying on us, Dr. Watson.”

He wrapped his arm around John’s shoulder and rested his cheek on John’s head. “I had no idea you were such an accomplished fake sleeper. You should add that to your CV.”

He handed Rosie her toy as he absentmindedly ran his other hand through her blonde wisps which caused her to release a delighted squeal of “Bo!”

John shook his head and chuckled at the both of them. “Sherlock. I need you to listen carefully to me. You and Rosie are two most important people in my life. You two are my family, the one I've always wanted. I am a bit sorry for the eavesdropping but I’m _never_ going to apologize for listening in on the most beautiful sounds I’ve ever heard coming through the speaker.”  

He put the arm not supporting his daughter around Sherlock’s trim waist and tugged him close. “I want to do this with you, raising Rosie. She deserves to be surrounded by people who will love her like _you already do_ , Sherlock. You’re her father too, you know. You just haven’t realized it yet. And I’m sorry it took me so long to see it.  Do you think you could do this with me? Do you want to?”

Sherlock silently let go of John and walked away from him, over to the dresser. He opened the top drawer and pulled out one of Rosie’s baby quilts. He spread it out on the nursery floor and returned to John and silently took Rosie in his arms. Then he set her down in the middle of the bright, floral fabric. She immediately began patting folds in the quilt, plucking at the pattern with her chubby fingers, babbling contentedly. Sherlock headed to the bookshelf and gathered up a few board books and a silver rattle, then placed them randomly around Rosie so she could discover them as she played.

John watched this entire process anxiously. Sherlock hadn’t said anything, hadn’t answered his questions. It was unlike him to be so quiet. He wouldn't even look John in the eyes.  

What if he’d heard it all wrong? Maybe what he’d heard over the monitor had been biased by his own desire for them to be a family? Had Sherlock simply been helping John out a bit instead of wanting to take on the huge responsibility of raising a child with him?

John worried that he might have overstepped here.  Maybe he'd read more into this than he should have. 

_Oh God, no._

John turned back toward the changing table to hide his disappointment. He ran his palms over the soft terry of the changing mat trying desperately to calm the coil of discontent growing in the pit of his stomach.  Then without warning, Sherlock slid in close behind him.  He grabbed John by the shoulders and gently spun him around.  When John’s dark blue eyes met Sherlock’s, he saw they were shiny with tears.

“John. John! Whatever you are thinking right now is wrong. Stop. Please.”

Sherlock cupped John’s face with both of his hands. “I just wanted to get Rosie settled so I could give you my full attention when I said this.”

John heard his breath catch but Sherlock continued undaunted.

“I love you, John. I love Rosie. And it’s been my greatest honor to help you care for her, better than any medal or accolade from the Queen.  It’s my privilege to make her laugh just by making silly faces; my pleasure to see her sleepy, puffy face each morning. I want this, John. I want it _all_. Everything. As long as it’s with you. I just, well…I never imagined I could have it.”

And then he clutched John to him in a desperate hug, like a man drowning, as his tears finally spilled over.

It was as if someone had told John he’d never have to suffer from his aching war wound ever again. No, it surpassed even that.

He felt lighter, unfettered. His dream of a family with Sherlock and Rosie was finally no longer just a dream. He grabbed the lapels of Sherlock’s dressing down, pulled him flush against his chest, and returned his embrace tenfold.  

“Oh, love. Look at us. We’re right idiots. Sobbing like two saps watching a romance film at the cinema when all we really both wanted was the same damn thing the entire time.”

John pulled back to look at Sherlock. He gently swiped his thumbs across his detective’s tear streaked cheekbones. Then he pushed himself up on his toes and brushed his lips against Sherlock’s. John deepened the kiss, putting all of the emotion of the morning into it as Sherlock began to respond in kind. Kisses of their love for each other, for their hopes and dreams of a family.  There were kisses for the joys of fatherhood and there were kisses for their future together.

The kissing gradually changed from ardent to reverent and Sherlock and John slowly loosened their hold on one another.  Sherlock was the first to speak.

“John. There’s something I’d like to confess, too. I’ve been thinking about it since you and Rosie came back to Baker Street. Since you became mine."

He looked at John hopefully. "If we’re going to do this I’d…well…I’d like to adopt Rosie. I want to commit to being her father just as much as I’m committed to you. That is, if you would allow such a thing?”

John grabbed both of Sherlock’s hands and beamed up at him.

“Of course. Of course I would, how could I not?” he said tenderly. “But are you sure, Sherlock? This means you’d be her Lahlah forever. Are you ok with that?”

Sherlock looked over at the little girl who had stolen his heart. She was still playing quietly on her quilt, blissfully unaware of the serious decisions being made right above her. Then he looked back to the man who had, in every way possible, saved him. 

“Oh yes, John. That’s just fine. It’s all fine.”

Downstairs, a forgotten baby monitor picked up the giggles of one ticklish baby girl and the low laughs of her two fathers who were right there beside her. It relayed the sounds of a happy family, broadcasting sounds of love throughout 221B.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all the way to the end!
> 
> Find me on [Tumblr!](https://bakingsherlycakes.tumblr.com/)

**Author's Note:**

> [HERE](https://www.etsy.com/listing/246969968/skeleton-plush-toy?ga_order=most_relevant&ga_search_type=all&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_search_query=plush%20skeleton&ref=sr_gallery_20) is where you can find Rosie's skeleton plush on Etsy. I'm not affiliated with the seller, I just went looking for a cute toy to have in my mind while I wrote. (but now I want one for myself)
> 
> When Sherlock speaks French, he says:  
> Frère Rosie, frère Rosie, Dormez-vous? Dormez-vous?- Friar Rosie, Friar Rosie. Are you sleeping? Are you sleeping?  
> mon bijou- my jewel  
> mon amour- my love  
> mon petit loup- my little wolf  
> oui- yes
> 
> [HERE](https://www.talkinfrench.com/french-terms-endearment-loved-ones/) is where I found my French terms of endearment.


End file.
